The Taste of a Sweeter Life
by loveofmylonglife
Summary: Ross/Elizabeth/Demelza, set after Francis loses the mine and ongoing as the series progresses. Ross and Elizabeth find themselves alone admist the chaos and Ross doesn't leave feeling as he expected. Originally a request from Tumblr.
1. Chapter 1

This is Ross/Demelza/Elizabeth, so don't worry if there's not much of your ship in this chapter_. _I myself am a Romelza shipper, so the next chapters will be good, I promise. This was originally a request from a Ross/Elizabeth anon on Tumblr and I'm working on a requested second chapter now.

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_"I'd like to think that we had it all, drew a map to a better place, but on that road, I took a fall. Oh, baby, why did you run away?"_

"Elizabeth?"

She stopped as she heard Ross' voice and turned around, basket in hand, hair very slightly askew. She became conscious of it and tucked it behind her ear as best she could. She still wasn't used to venturing out without a hat to fix her hair in place. Ross swung off his horse and walked over, taking off his gloves to reveal his calloused hands.

"How are you faring? You and….Francis?"

He looked around before mentioning his cousin's name, as if he'd jump out of the bushes and murder him. His eyes narrowed against the gentle breeze.

"Francis is currently tending to his sore hands, I'm afraid, Ross. We are well….as well as we can be at such a time."

He nodded and looked around again, presumably for Verity. He stopped and smiled at something past Elizabeth's shoulder and sure enough, Verity made her way outside.

"Ross! What a pleasure! Will you come inside, have something to drink? I was actually out on my way to see Demelza."

"Go ahead, cousin, I'm sure she's waiting for you."

Verity clasped his hands one last time with her characteristic persevering smile, glancing meaningfully over to the house in which she'd just left her wounded brother. Wounded in more than one way, she thought.

"Goodbye," she smiled at both Ross and Elizabeth, saddling her horse and riding off.

Ross became so involved in seeing her off that he failed to notice Elizabeth looking at him expectantly.

"Could I help you in any way, Ross? These vegetables won't pull themselves, you see."

She gestured in her basket to a soily crop of potatoes and carrots, of which someone in the house would presumably make some sort of stew. Probably Verity.

"No, of course. I just came by to see if I could be of any service. I see you're busy, I'll take your leave."

He sent a short smile in her direction and turned towards his horse again. Elizabeth bit her lip, realising her words had probably sounded terse when she meant nothing of the sort.

"No, Ross."

He stopped still as he heard her, turning slowly.

"I didn't mean to sound short with you. You know we aren't in the best of circumstances here. Francis is….unable to work and we can scarce afford a cook or housekeeper so Verity and I both share the load. I'm afraid to say it's taking our toll on us."

She smiled apologetically and Ross frowned back.

"Please, come inside."

He followed wordlessly as she turned and made her way towards the house. Viewing her from behind, he couldn't resist a smile at the sight of her carrying the basket on her hip, making her way gracefully over the lumpy grass. And he suddenly knew why she looked so different to him. Her hair was arranged differently. No longer was it piled elegantly on her head with a thick ringlet falling down her pale neck. Now it was more….rustic, he thought. Half up, half down, like it had been when he'd known her before. The fines silks and satins were also nowhere to be seen. Instead, she wore a dull blue gown lined with white, much like the gowns Demelza often wore. They looked duller on Elizabeth somehow. Her dark curls tumbled down her back, jostled by the wind as she made her way inside her now humble home.

It was small, similar to his in many ways, but not nearly as lived in. Belongings gathered in clusters all around the various rooms as Elizabeth led him through into the bare sitting area. He took his hat off and looked around. Nothing had been removed from its storage, almost as if Francis didn't want to believe that this was now their new home. He heard tinkling from the kitchen as Elizabeth strode in with a tray on which sat a decanter of whisky and a small glass. Ross stopped for a moment and stared, wondering at just how much she looked like Demelza in that moment. He'd never imagined Elizabeth living in a place like this. He'd never seen her hands serve anything or carry anything apart from her beautiful baby son.

"How is Geoffrey Charles?"

She smiled at this as she poured the whisky out, but the corners of her lips turned down slightly.

"He's well. I worry for him catching cold at times, but I always keep him wrapped up warm. He's asleep."

Her manner was nervous as she handed over the whisky, her hand shaking slightly. Ross took the glass from her and sipped as he viewed her over the rim.

"And Julia? How is she? I'm sorry I haven't been able to see Demelza for some time."

"No, of course. Julia is….," he trailed off as a smile spread over his face, "A gem. Demelza copes admirably with her."

Elizabeth nodded and smiled, clasping her hands together as she stood some distance away from Ross. He couldn't help but smile at her hesitation, yet it was mixed with a strange resignation he hadn't seen before.

"Elizabeth…tell me what's wrong. Is it Francis?"

He set his glass down and stepped towards her. She looked up almost in alarm.

"No, no!"

She tried to get words out but before she could find anything to say, she found herself tearing up, half in frustration and half at the alarm of letting Ross see her in this state. She'd never imagined she'd be inviting him into her home like this, or that indeed she'd ever have a home like this. She wasn't spoilt or haughty, she reminded herself over and over.

"I'm sorry, Ross."

She pressed a hand against her stomach and another under her nose, closing her eyes as if that would somehow stop the tears. Ross' face fell and he hurriedly strode over to clasp her hand, guiding her to sit down on the couch as she let out a small, pitiful sound, followed by a gasp to somehow inhale the tears back.

He knelt on one knee in front of her, holding her hand, squeezing it gently.

"None of this is your fault, Elizabeth, you must know that. And it's not your fault you find it difficult. This is a reasonable adjustment and make no mistake, I was glad to see that you and Verity understand there's no shame in working the land. I know you, Elizabeth. I know your fire, your determination, your steadfastness."

He looked at her earnestly, wanting to somehow reassure her that it was okay to cry. He didn't mistake those tears as sadness and longing for what she'd previously had. Elizabeth was better than that. He'd known her since she was a child. She was resourceful and clever, always curious and inquisitive. She would find a way out of this, a way to help her husband. She was glad too. She gathered herself and took deep breaths. At least he understood. The adjustment hard been hard.

"Especially with Francis in….such a way," she said quietly, "It's been hard for Verity and I. I don't blame anyone, and there are many people worse off than I," she continued fervently.

"I blame someone. I blame Francis," muttered Ross, letting go of her hand and standing up to pace the room, "I blame him. How could he have done such a childish thing? It's a mine, not a piece of crockery to be bartered at a market!"

Elizabeth stood, wiping her face, worried that Francis would hear. Ross took one look at her face and sighed, looking around the house aimlessly.

"I am sorry, Elizabeth. I'm sorry that you have to live like this, you don't deserve it. After all you've done for Uncle…for Francis…you don't deserve this."

"I don't think it's about deserving, Ross. What have any of us done to deserve anything?"

Ross stared at her.

"I've done a lot, Elizabeth. I've done things I don't ever want to do again. I think I deserve something."

"I didn't mean that, Ross, you know I didn't."

She walked towards him, her eyebrows furrowed at the place he seemed to be lost in. His eyes were looking past her now, almost out of the window at the rapidly darkening field.

"I deserved you."

At the last word, his eyes moved to focus on her instead and she blinked as she finally realised what he'd said. She wondered if her ears were deceiving her.

"I deserved you, Elizabeth. I deserved to come home and marry you, that was how it was meant to be. And God knows, you wouldn't have been living here."

He gestured dismissively around the room. His eyes bore into her uncomfortably and she looked down to escape from them.

"We've talked about this, Ross—"

"Do you ever think of me now, Elizabeth?"

The question was so abrupt and off piste that Elizabeth looked up in surprise. Ross' expression hadn't changed. His eyes were still searching her face for a response, anything that would betray her true emotions.

"I couldn't say."

She turned away, setting her back to him as she looked out of the window once more. Why was it so dark outside?

"Do you think of me, Elizabeth? It might seem like a petty question considering the circumstances, but I assure you, it is not."

"I wonder," she began.

Ross paused in his pre-emptive speech, looking up at her in shock. He was convinced she wouldn't speak. He couldn't see her face, and Elizabeth was aware of this.

"I wonder what Francis thinks of you. I wonder it often. What Francis sees in you to be envious of. To cause him to be so hateful towards you. He speaks of you often to me, you know. You're the only topic of conversation we seem to have these days. Whenever we do speak, that is."

"I'm not interested in what he says of me."

Ross' tone was blunt, his eyes still direct.

"What do you think of me, Elizabeth? Do you ever think of what happened before all of this? What happened between us?"

"Sometimes."

Ross' breath caught in his throat. It was a mere whisper that had slipped from her lips. Perhaps she hadn't even meant to say it out loud. She turned and stared at him.

"Sometimes. And I wonder what would have happened if I hadn't married Francis. If I'd married you. Trenwith, Grambler, Wheal Leisure, all of those things. But would I have been happy, Ross?"

"Are you happy with Francis?" he countered.

"It's not about that, Ross! It's not you or Francis, it's not as simple as that! I am not a…child's plaything, that can be made to choose between one fancy or the other. I have my own wishes and desires. And….it's different now. I have Geoffrey Charles to think of. And I do not regret the choice I've made."

Her voice was determined, yet Ross raised an eyebrow at this, closing the distance between them in a few paces, standing in front of her. Only then did she realise how tall he was in comparison to her, almost bearing down on her. He didn't understand why she didn't regret her choice of marrying Francis. He was proud of the way she'd coped since they'd made economies, but that didn't mean that her life was one of happiness and contentment. Neither was his, with the imminent creation of the smelting company and an uncertain future ahead. He wished he could leave all of it behind sometimes.

"Do you remember the apple tree?"

Elizabeth unfurrowed her brow, fully expecting some rebuttal of her claims.

"The apple tree. Hours, we must have spent, trying to get the riper apples at the top. You bid me get you a ladder from a nearby house, you had such a craving. It became dark, just like this…I lit a lantern and climbed all the way up to fill a basket full of apples for you. And we sat at the base of the tree, eating them until it was too dark to see. Your mother wasn't best pleased when we arrived home. I still remember seeing you in that candlelight, wrapped up in your shawl, eating and laughing."

He could almost taste the sweet and sour juice in his mouth and hear the crunch of every bite. Her airy laughter as he bemoaned his travails.

"Anyone would think I was King Eurystheus, sending you on the Seven Labours! It's just a few apples, Ross!"

The scent of fresh apples filled his senses again as he looked around for a possible source. It wasn't a figment of his imagination. In Elizabeth's basket lay a few green apples, exactly like the ones he'd picked for her some years before. He leaned over and plucked one from the basket, rubbing it clean on his jacket. He offered it to her. All the while, Elizabeth had watched him and indeed, she remembered. She'd felt bad afterwards for pestering him so much.

"Eat."

She viewed him above the apple held out to her, his eyes soft now, gazing at her almost dreamily. She felt like the Elizabeth of her youth. Not reduced to relative poverty and farming allotments, but spending hours out in the fields, by the cliffs, doing…whatever she liked with her life. Not cooped up caring for her husband's wounded ego, but able to do whatever she wanted. The same daring spirit she'd had in that memory.

She leaned forward and bit the fruit, and a loud crunch echoed around the bare living room. As she ate, she expected Ross to take a bite too, but he simply watched her. She ate quietly, politely, almost shyly. The fine fabrics and elaborate hairdos may be gone, but her intrinsic grace still remained. She was perfection. She always had been.

"Do you remember?" he asked quietly.

She nodded slowly, almost too scared to admit anything from a past she hardly recognised anymore.

"It's always been you, Elizabeth."

She barely registered his whisper before he leaned down and licked the juice of the apple from just below her bottom lip, not stopping until his hands moved around her hips, pulling her closer to him gently as he kissed her. She was unaware as to when her own hands had placed themselves on his upper arms. His lips felt alien on hers. Not soft, but she'd expected roughness. The warmth was a fire, and she finally realised this is what she was meant to have, if things had gone right. She deepened the kiss, meeting his tongue with hers as he pulled her almost painfully tight against him, one hand squeezing the small of her back lovingly. She could hardly breathe for the shower of kisses Ross bestowed on her, pushing her against the wall with a thud, almost holding her in place with his body. They broke away slowly and he met her gaze with his, moving a calloused hand up to stroke her soft cheek and tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

All of a sudden, a loud cry filled the small house. Elizabeth stepped away from Ross in horror. Footsteps echoed and the cry became louder.

"Elizabeth? He's awake. He needs you."

"Francis….," she whispered, her eyes wide as she stared up at Ross, "Go. Now."

He opened his mouth to say something, but she raised a hand.

"Get out, Ross."

Her voice cracked and her eyes were fierce and hot as she gestured towards the door.

"You heard Francis. My husband and son need me."

Ross gritted his teeth and grabbed his hat and gloves from the table, storming out and slamming the door with a loud bang. The sound irritated the sleepy Geoffrey Charles and his cry became louder.

"Hush, my darling, my sweetheart, come here."

Elizabeth took him from a mildly annoyed Francis, who sat down at the table and rubbed his temples.

"Who was that?"

"Verity," replied Elizabeth quickly, "She'd been out."

Francis nodded and continued rubbing his temples. Elizabeth carried Geoffrey Charles upstairs for a nap. She was disgusted with herself.

Ross rode home furiously, so much so that Ginny was alarmed by the sound of him entering the house. She turned and watched him storm into the kitchen. He looked around aimlessly and turned away from her gaze, his hair all over the place. He rubbed his hands against his cheeks, trying to wipe away the tears that seemed to have formed.

"Where's Demelza?"

"Upstairs, Sir, with the little mistress. It were late, but she said she'd stay awake till you came, Sir, and to let 'er know when you was 'ome."

Ginny ventured towards the stairs to inform Demelza, but Ross stopped her.

"There's no need, I'll go. Get back to your work."

Ginny nodded and went back to the stove to finish up cleaning from the night's dinner. She stared at her master's back as he looked out of the window, pressing his hands against the windowsill as if he were gathering himself. Should he go upstairs? He didn't know. He couldn't face Demelza right now. But she'd be worried if he stayed out all night. She didn't need that insecurity. He made his way upstairs slowly, entering the bedroom.

"Ross? Why were 'ee out so late? Julia and I miss 'ee, did we not? We missed Papa!"

Demelza laughed happily, cradling her little girl in a soft white blanket. Julia cooed brightly, blinking up at her loving mother, showing no signs of going to sleep. Demelza sat cheerfully in bed, dressed in the same white nightgown she always wore, carefully arranging the blankets around Julia's face.

"I was afeared she'd get too warm with so much beddin' but Verity told me it'd be good for 'er. She be showing signs o' fever, I feel, sometimes. Wouldn't stop cryin' today, no matter wha' I did. She didn't want no feedin', no changin', no sleepin'. The only time she'd stop would be when I 'eld her all upright like that."

"She looks happy enough now. Must be a mother's touch."

Demelza smiled again and focused her eyes back on her daughter, watching her every movement keenly.

"Why were 'ee out so late? I stayed downstairs waitin'."

"Just…a meeting with the investors, my love. Nothing to worry about."

His heart broke as she nodded along acceptingly, stroking Julia's tiny fingers with hers. He felt heavy and his head hurt. It felt like it was on fire. He took his jacket off and tossed it aside carelessly, undressing for bed. Demelza frowned at his angry movements.

"Was it bad, Ross? Tell me what 'appened."

Ross scrunched his eyes shut and turned around with a reassuring smile, climbing into bed.

"Nothing, love."

He kissed her lips gently, closing his eyes as her unruly hair brushed against his face. Her lips tasted sweet. She smiled as he pulled away. Heleaned over and gently stroked Julia's forehead, resting closer to his wife and daughter against the pillows. Demelza smiled lovingly, leaning aside to rest her forehead against his.

"What a precious thing she is, Ross."

"The most precious," he half-whispered, closing his eyes as he bent his head to press a gentle kiss to Julia's forehead, resting his lips there for a few seconds. Demelza gently stroked his hair with her free hand. He wished he could stay that way forever. This is where he belonged. With his family.

"Look how she sleeps now," murmured Demelza, "her Papa sent her straight to bed."

She got up and placed Julia safely in her cot, climbing back into bed. Warming her feet under the blankets, she laughed as Ross wrapped his arms around her almost immediately, holding her close to him.

"Cold?" she enquired playfully, turning over to face him and snuggling up under the blankets.

He didn't reply as she lifted a hand to stroke his face, gently brushing his rough stubble with her fingers before lifting a single finger to trace the scar on his left temple. He closed his eyes at the feeling, letting Demelza's cool fingers wash away the fire in his head. She smiled at his laziness and moved her hand away to hold his hand, bringing their entwined hands to rest between them.

"Goodnight, Ross."

"Goodnight, my love."

She closed her eyes and smiled. Ross moved closer, as close as he could, and pressed a kiss to her lips. She responded warmly, kissing him deeply. His heart wrenched in two at her trusting, warm smile and soft, content gaze. He'd never hated himself more.

"I love you, Demelza."

She opened her eyes at his random declaration and furrowed her brows teasingly.

"Is that so, Mister Ross? In that case, I love you too."

As she closed her eyes, Ross lifted his hand to gently stroke her cheek with his thumb. In the candlelight, her skin looked an ethereal peachy gold, her hair shining like molten copper. She looked like something out of a painting. Titian, perhaps, or Caravaggio, with her rosy cheeks and pale skin. Even in her sleep, she looked so bright, so lively, but still so soft and honest. Pure, almost. Like a sleeping angel in an old painting. She'd redeemed him. And he needed redemption.

She opened her eyes sleepily and smiled, closing them again. Ross didn't close his all night.

_"I hear your voice in my sleep at night, hard to resist temptation. Something strange has come over me, now I just can't get over you."_


	2. Chapter 2

This is set in episode 6, after Ross catches Matthew cheating at cards, the evening before the morning you see them all leaving in the carriage. This second chapter was also anon requested, and there was a prompt for it also, which is why this isn't necessarily how I wanted it go. I also wanted to get it out before the next episode airs tonight because this is set in the last episode, and I want it to feel concurrent and fresh. I feel like I'll need to write a chapter 3 after the next episode airs, where I think I'll be able to have a bit more creative control. Epigraph from Nothing by The Script. Thank you so much to everyone who R&amp;Red the first chapter, you're angels and I love you.

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"_And I know that I'm drunk but I'll say the words and she'll listen this time even though they're slurred."_

The sound of brandy sloshing in a glass announced his arrival before he'd even entered the room. Demelza made a face and got up, turning away to walk to the window. Elizabeth frowned and made to walk towards her, but was accosted by Ross.

"Vile, cheating, fraudulent scum, every last one of them. Reverend Halse, Matthew Sanson," he spat their names with disgust, "All thrive off cheating others out of what they deserve."

He moved through the room, sipping from time to time and Elizabeth ignored him, walking towards the window. As she walked, a look passed between her and Verity. A warning look.

"Demelza?"

Demelza wiped her eyes hurriedly and turned to face Elizabeth.

"Don't cry now," she murmured reassuringly, rubbing her arm gently, "why don't we get some air?"

Demelza nodded and sniffed quietly, her bottom lip turning inwards as it did when she was about to cry. Verity saw them leave together and wanted to follow, but knew the men would find it suspicious. She squeezed her clasped hands together hard, her fingernails digging into her palms as she avoided Francis' wandering stare. Both Francis and Dwight were watching Ross walk around, as if he was a circus attraction in some sort of exotic freak show. Cards were still scattered all over the floor, along with the remainders of what had once been a wine glass, now a victim to Ross' loss of control. All three men were drunk to some extent. George watched the entire scene like a perverse ringmaster.

Elizabeth could hear Demelza consciously trying to take deep, even breaths. She held her hand tight as they walked slowly around the vast expanse of greenery George called a garden.

"How could 'ee? On my very first ball! I know, I know that man was wrong to be cheatin' and I know Ross is 'urt about Jim but….am I so awful to want one evenin'—"

"Of course not, Demelza," urged Elizabeth, taking her hands, "you shouldn't feel this way. What Ross did was wrong and he is a fool to think it didn't hurt you."

"But it ain't about me, though," murmured Demelza, sitting down on a bench in a small stone enclave of the garden. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her fan fell limply in her lap. Elizabeth sat next to her and faced her.

"What do you mean?"

"It ain't about me, it's about us. Ross and I, together. I shoulda known he was 'urt and I know why we 'ad to come to the ball, Verity explained it all well to both of us but I shoulda known better. 'ee was in no state to be in polite company and that's no fault o' 'is own. It'd 'ave been better if we'd stayed at 'ome, where Ross could 'ave spent some time away, alone, by 'imself!"

She sniffed and gritted her teeth, wiping her eyes harshly. Elizabeth could tell she blamed herself for his behaviour.

"No, no, he has no one to blame but himself! He was aware of his own doing—"

"But bein' around the people he 'ates wasn't 'elping! Ross needed 'ome and comfort and family, not…this!" she waved her fan at the house that shined brightly like it was on fire in a sea of steadily growing darkness.

Demelza stood up and sighed, smoothing her dress down and turning to face Elizabeth.

"All this, the dress, the fan, the jewels, they don't mean nothin' to me if we ain't 'appy. If Ross ain't 'appy. I don't want to come to no more balls until I know 'ee's in a fit mind. That's the most important thing," she said, fisting her fan in her hand tightly, "I can be a lady, I can be genteel and polite and I don't 'ave to go to no ball to show that!"

Elizabeth frowned sadly as she saw Demelza's eyes glimmer in the residual light from the manor house windows. Demelza's jaw tightened.

"And I can spell it too! I-M-P-O-R-T-A-N-T! And I am! I am important!"

With that, she turned and stamped angrily back inside, leaving Elizabeth alone out on the bench. The last thing Elizabeth heard was a gut wrenching sob and a rustle of skirts as Demelza half ran, half stormed across the grass, and her own sigh.

"Mr Warleggan? If you could tell me where my husband is, I would be most grateful."

Elizabeth flashed a small smile at George as she stood in the corner of an empty and littered card room, still daintily clutching the small wine glass he'd carried around with him all evening. The entire house seemed to be virtually empty and an eerily silence had rung through the halls as she'd walked in. Her every sense had prickled to tell her that something wasn't right. She felt like a rabbit in George's predatory gaze.

"Dear Francis retired a considerable while ago, along with Dr Enys and Miss Verity. You may wish to join them."

She nodded politely and smiled, making her way towards the staircase.

"Ross, however, is still philosophising on the concept of entitlement. Who knows, perhaps the Poldark dynasty was the hand behind the Discourse on Inequality. Either way, Ross seems to be Cornwall's answer to Rousseau."

George extended an arm to invite her into the next room. Elizabeth smiled curtly.

"When a man is thus inclined, I feel it is sensible to leave him to his own devices. As you said, my husband retired a while ago. I'm sure you and Ross have much to discuss."

George inclined his head towards her civilly. She returned the acknowledgement with a short curtsey and made her way slowly up the stairs. She felt a movement behind her and dared not look until she reached the first landing. Her eyes flicked to the side to see George hanging lazily at the foot of the stairs, sipping carelessly from his glass as he watched her. Her heart shot up to her mouth and she gripped the banister tightly, knuckles white as she made her way up and onto the top landing. George was nowhere in sight and she let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. As she looked at the myriad of doors and corridors in front of her, she considered the night's events.

"I confess, I did not expect to find you awake so late. I thought you would have been a-bed for some time by now."

The slurred words made her scrunch her eyes shut in frustration.

"How could you?"

She turned angrily and set her fierce eyes on Ross.

"How could I what?" he murmured carelessly, leaning against the railings enclosing the landing, meeting her angry stare with his. He looked at her from under his lashes, hair still tossed across his face.

"How could you behave like that? It was a special night for Demelza, you knew that. And whatever had passed between you and the other guests, that was inconsequential."

"Inconsequential?" Ross seemed to find amusement in the word, "Is that what you think, Elizabeth? That what happened was inconsequential? You know me better than that. What these people have done, how they treat others as if they were no better than dirt, how they feel they have the right to take away the livelihoods of others and then make merry as if—"

"But you have no right to humiliate Demelza as you did. She believes your behaviour was entirely her fault! She feels that if she had encouraged you to stay home, perhaps this entire debacle may have been avoided."

Ross sighed and ran his palms over his face slowly. He knew he'd been unfair to Demelza, that was no secret. He knew bartering her jewel hadn't upset her as much as the way he'd behaved. He knew she had wanted to attend a society ball for as long as she'd been married to him, how excited she'd been to wear the new dresses and learn the dances and mingle. He felt heavy and everything was dark. He wanted to sleep. His head was pounding and he could see the bedroom door slightly ajar in front of him. There was nothing left but to sleep now, and as soon as possible wake up in time for the carriage that would take them home in the morning. He wouldn't even pause to have breakfast at George's charnel house he called a mansion. He tasted acid in his throat and pushed it back down. He refrained from spewing vomit all over the floor of the nicely varnished landing, making his way slowly across it to his bedroom.

"Did you hear anything I said?" came an incredulous voice from behind him.

Ross stopped and turned slowly.

"With all due respect, Elizabeth, I am in no mood to listen to reason now. We will speak in the morning. I assure you, Demelza and I will be well."

"Well? Well is hardly good enough!" she blustered uncharacteristically. She wouldn't bite her lip this time. "I think you forget how much you have hurt D—"

"And I think you forget that you have no right to interfere in my family matters!" Ross raged, striding across the landing to stand across from her.

Elizabeth's eyes widened at his raised tone, taking two steps back reflexively. Ross glared at her angrily. Now it was him with fire in his eyes.

"You made it clear that you have your own little world and so do I, so I suggest we stay firmly within our own capabilities."

"Ross, whatever happened between us, that does not stop me from caring for the wellbeing of your wife. I know what it feels like to be….put aside and marginalised by your husband when he feels you are of no consequence to him."

"Is that what you feel I think when I look at Demelza? That she is of no consequence? I assure you, Elizabeth, your marital experiences are far from universal. The miserable, unhappy tale you call a marriage cannot be remedied now. You had a chance to put it right and maybe we all would not be in this….mess now," he stated.

Elizabeth stared at him in disbelief. She couldn't understand what she was hearing.

"The chance? I had the chance?! I thought you were dead!" she whispered angrily.

"The way Francis is going, you'll all be dead," muttered Ross, "And certainly not in a blaze of gunfire and glory. I wonder what dying of septic blisters is like," he scoffed sarcastically, reaching to the side to pick up a half empty bottle of brandy he'd deposited on an ornamental table.

Elizabeth pushed his hand away, causing him to turn and look curiously at her.

"I think you have had enough," she whispered in disgust, picking up the bottle herself and walking into an empty bedroom. All those words of reassurance, of working the land not being anything to be ashamed of, of being proud of her and Verity making economies, they were all lies if this was what he truly thought. Francis' inability to scythe and toil was not something to be scoffed at. Francis wasn't a soldier, he wasn't used to hard labour. She knew he'd been far from kind to her, but that was no reason to be spiteful towards him and the circumstances to which they'd all been reduced. She wrenched open the bathroom door and poured the remainder of the brandy down the toilet.

"Elizabeth, forgive me. I had no intention of—"

"It's clear you had every intention of belittling my husband and myself, Ross."

She set the bottle on a sill and brushed past where he stood in the doorway, standing out in the open space of the empty guest bedroom. Ross turned to face her, glaring at her angrily. She knew him better than that, she knew he wasn't in a proper state of mind. Why couldn't she understand he was apologising? She could just forgive him and move on like it never happened.

"Elizabeth, I assure you, I did not. I have no desire to belittle anyone, that is the reserve of people like the Warleggans and Reverend Halse," he spat the names again, staring at her evenly, "The words of a man mean nothing unless they match his actions and for all his…idiocy, Francis must pay the price."

"Idiocy? My husband is not an idiot, how dare you refer to him as such?! It is not for you to judge his actions and if you command me not to interfere in your family matters, then you must agree to reciprocate!"

"I command nothing, I merely remind you of your choice! If you had not chosen to marry that…man," he jabbed a finger accusingly across the hall, "then you would have every right to interfere in my family matters because that would have been your family! Our family! Do not stand here arguing semantics with me, Elizabeth, you yourself know that things would have been different if you had been a Poldark of Nampara, not Trenwith! We would have attended this ball with pomp and circumstance, not in a madeover dress and a drunken stupor! And it is your fault! Your choice!"

She opened her mouth to retort, her body shaking with the force of Ross' words. He'd hardly raised his voice, yet the anger that seethed in the stress he placed on every syllable clearly pointed the finger of blame in her direction.

"You see what we have become? The two of us? And it is your doing, Elizabeth."

"You treat me like your own plaything once more," she accused in a low tone, staring at him with just as much aggression as he'd spoken to her, "you treat me like a character in commonplace book. You say it was my _choice. _I HAD no choice, Ross!"

At this, he looked up at her, his hair falling across his face, his gaze direct and dark. Her lips moved in speaking motions, but no sound came out, wondering what she'd said to elicit such a reaction. She couldn't tell if he was drunk or sober now as he moved across the room again. His shoulders swayed from side to side and took up her entire field of vision as he came closer. His eyes were entrancing, in a dangerous, drowning in the ocean kind of way; her chest felt heavy, as if she was breathing in water with every rise and fall and her senses were taken up by the man in front of her.

Something dark stirred behind his eyes as he viewed her, so indignant that she had been a helpless young girl, easily swayed by her mother's arguments when she had married Francis. The anger swelled in him, that he'd fought so hard and resisted all the pain of coming back to Cornwall just for the promise of her…to find her there, but just out of his reach. His choice would have been simple, he could have turned that carriage back the way it had come when he heard news of his father's death. He couldn't have gone any further, but he chose to because he knew Elizabeth was waiting for him at the end of it all. He had no choice but to gravitate towards the happy ending that motivated him throughout that hideous war. She was the light at the end of his dark tunnel, but when he arrived there, he realised she was the train.

"It was me that didn't have a choice," he whispered darkly, looking down at her.

She couldn't read his face, but couldn't look away from his eyes. His stare was magnetic and her eyes were unable to pull away from his almost toxic gaze.

"I didn't have a choice. You were my choice and you took that away from me. Why? Why did you deny me my only chance at happiness? Why did you deny me…us?"

Elizabeth knew he was wrong to place all the blame on her, to make it sound like she was the one at fault for the hands of fate turning in the wrong direction.

"I had no part in any of this, Ross! You cannot level such a baseless accusation against me! I am not responsible for the actions of Fortune, I took nothing from you, I denied you nothing and you cannot address me with such informality. I am not your property!"

As she spoke, the fire in her eyes returned again and her hair flew angrily around her face, like a rendering of Medusa. Her elaborate hairstyle collapsed almost instantly and her jaw tightened. She could barely breathe for being so angry. Ross almost laughed at her words, his dangerously intense gaze fixing back on her again.

"Don't you understand, Elizabeth? You're mine. You always have been."

"H-how dare you—"

Her sentence was swallowed by Ross' lips on hers and this time, they weren't alien. She anticipated the roughness, the slight burnt sweetness of brandy, the thud of her back against the wall. Her eyes closed almost immediately, her hands squeezing his upper arms in response. He was much firmer than before, almost as if he was wordlessly trying to make her believe all that he'd said, his hands squeezing her hips tightly, his lips assaulting hers with an almost feral fervour. He heard an intake of breath as he bit her bottom lip, reaching up to release her hair from its ribbon, a growl escaping him as he grabbed her and turned her around to face the wall. She barely had time to feel her nearly numb lips as she felt him tug at the laces of her dress, his lips crashing into her neck, biting, kissing roughly, tasting as much of her skin as he could, like she was water and he wanted to drown. He hastily pulled and ultimately ripped her gown apart in frustration, growling loudly against her neck. She felt the vibration against her skin, making its way through her body to the ground, his loud, hungry breaths filling her ears, mixing with her own. Sounds left her mouth that she'd never heard before Ross pressed himself against her, flipping her back around to face him. His eyes, not his body, trapped her this time. As her back hit the wall once again, he placed one hand against the wall at her head and his piercing stare was wild and rough, just like his kisses. She couldn't recognise the loud breaths that were her own, or the fire that danced ferociously behind his eyes. He looked at her like she was his to consume and that was when he moved closer, biting her bottom lip once more.

"I want to possess you, Elizabeth. Do you understand that?" he whispered just close to her ear, only loud enough for her to hear as his breath tickled her ear, his other hand reaching down to pull at her skirts, his body a comfortable pressure on hers. She never dropped his burning gaze, but pushed him away gently.

"I'm not yours to possess. I'm no one's Ross," she said quietly, slipping away from his grip, turning towards the door like a figure in a dream.

"Not even my own." 

"When did you first know he was cheating?"

Elizabeth's lips tightened.

"Almost at once. But I wanted to be sure before I challenged him."

Demelza stared after Ross as he marched forwards to help his favourite cousin into the carriage carefully. Elizabeth stared at him blankly, her tone airy and ever so slightly judgemental.

"Your exploits at Bodmin jail were much discussed."

"No doubt," responded Ross brusquely.

"There was some sympathy for your intentions."

"Though not our actions," pointed Dwight.

Ross took Elizabeth's hand as she entered the carriage, staring at her with slight confusion in his eyes. He smiled as a vision of yellow appeared in front of him, a smile of business as he took her hand and waited for her to sit, looking the other way and fixing his jacket as Francis appeared in front of him. Demelza heard them conferring outside, hiding the letter under her cloak nervously. She looked across the carriage at Elizabeth, smiling warmly.

"I forgot to thank you for your friendship last night. You were a great source o' comfort for me an' I do apologise for making off like that. That were not polite behaviour. I do 'ope you can forgive me," she asked in her most polite voice.

She'd spent the entire night worrying about her temper tantrum and how bad Elizabeth must have felt, especially when she had spoken to her of her own accord and tried her best to make things right. She hoped Elizabeth didn't think of her as a spoiled child, but she seemed distracted. She flashed a small smile at Demelza.

"Of course, my dear. You were not impolite in the slightest and I am glad I could be of use."

Demelza smiled and reached across to grasp Elizabeth's hand, squeezing it gently as she did Verity's from time to time. Elizabeth smiled shakily and squeezed it back kindly as the two men made their way inside the carriage. Francis' bitter stare made its way past Ross, to the back wall of the carriage. Elizabeth stared outside, feigning interest in the dull morning sunlight. Ross' head raged with the news of Matthew Sanson and George's new relationship, as well as many other relationships he didn't care to name. Demelza gazed at Ross, gauging him and sometimes at Elizabeth and Verity, her mouth turning up in absent smiles. Elizabeth and Ross faced opposite sides of the carriage and no one spoke. Verity's eyes missed nothing.

"_So I dialled her number and confessed to her I'm still in love, but all I heard was nothing. I wanted words but all I got was nothing."_


End file.
